Draik Expectations
by SurferSquid
Summary: Pharazon has always idolized the brilliant minds at Brightvale University and dreamed of attending, and now he's going to go for his dreams! He's even met a very nice Lupe sorceress who wants to help him apply to the school, and doesn't have any ulterior motives at all. Right? Published in the Neopian Times, issues 610-611.
1. Chapter 1

"Explain to me again why we're always on the way somewhere," Dark_breed_Hyren the blue Grundo said as he tromped down a well-worn woodland path, glowering at the faerie Draik beside him.

"We're not _always_ on the way somewhere," his brother ArPharazonTheGolden said. "We do get there eventually." Somewhere up ahead he could hear the gleeful cries of a certain disco Zafara, but he paid them no heed. He was on a most important errand and could not be bothered with his childish older sister's antics. "You could have stayed back in Meridell with Terra while she gets over her cold, Mister Grumpy Grundo. Why are you here?"

"Damage control," Hyren said with a shrug. He glanced up at his taller younger brother. "What I don't get is why _you're_ here."

Pharazon stood up a little straighter and puffed out his chest. "Because," he said, "today's the day I'm going to become a Brightvale scholar."

The Grundo rolled his eyes. "I still don't get why you're obsessed with that kingdom, Pharazon. It's a bunch of stuffy, self-righteous know-it-alls. And personally, I don't trust anyone who likes stained glass _that_ much."

"Well, excuse me for not wanting to be a rube," Pharazon sniffed, buffing his claws on his chest scales. "No offense, but some of us want more out of life than beating up the Pant Devil."

"Somebody's gotta bring home those Defenders of Neopia trophies," Hyren said. "I'm just worried that maybe you're overestimating—"

"You guuuuuuuys!" Blynn's voice cut through the morning air, sending a flock of Albats scattering into the trees. "We're heeeeere!" The aforementioned disco Zafara poked her head out of a nearby tree. "We made it to—" She promptly lost her grip and tumbled to the ground in front of the Grundo and the Draik.

"Right on schedule," Hyren said. "So, where does one need to go in order to become a Brightvale scholar?"

"The palace, of course!" Pharazon said as they crested the last rise. "Brightvale University is built right in to Brightvale Castle. So fitting!"

Before them spread a pastoral landscape peppered with small hamlets and patches of farmland. And straight ahead, past the gated city walls, rose a towering castle with white, green, and gold flags flapping sharply from its parapets. To Pharazon, the palace seemed to welcome him, to invite him to join its ranks of great minds.

"Such a marvelous bastion of knowledge!" the Draik said, clasping his paws as they strolled into the castle town. "The finest intellectuals in all of Neopia gather there for a veritable symphony of learning! Why, their collective brainpower could—"

"Hold that thought," Hyren said. "Blynn just took off for that fruit vendor." He turned and ran after her.

Pharazon was left to his own devices in the world of his dreams. He wandered down the main street, soaking it all in with his jaw hanging open. The sheer number of bookstores alone was staggering, not to mention all the shops dedicated to magic or scholars' supplies. Everything and everyone here was dedicated to the pursuit of amassing information. This was what Pharazon wanted—he was sure of it.

Other Neopets strutted about the streets, holding books and scrolls and looking quite important. Pharazon waved to them, but they simply regarded him with narrowed eyes and moved on. He was sure it was just because they, being scholars, were simply too preoccupied with their amazing research to socialise at the moment.

He was so busy daydreaming of how he would astonish all of his professors and classmates with his sharp mind, and earn no less than twenty-five degrees in various fields, that he suddenly walked into someone.

"I beg your pardon!" a female voice said sharply, almost as if it was Pharazon who should be begging for _her_ pardon instead. But Pharazon felt she had every right to be upset because he was being careless.

Pharazon looked up to see a white Lupe standing over him, straightening her forest green robes with one paw, while her other arm held a stack of scrolls. Her snowy hair was pulled up in a tight bun and a pair of spectacles perched on her muzzle.

"I—I'm sorry," the Draik said. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I suppose I was just so absorbed in the marvelous atmosphere of this—"

"Well, get your head out of the clouds," the Lupe snapped. "Typical for a faerie pet! I was on my way to a symposium on the Petpet Puddle, and thanks to your carelessness…" Her golden eyes widened and her ears perked. "Wait—a faerie pet, here in Brightvale? Are you from Faerieland, by any chance?"

"I was only painted faerie," Pharazon said. "My family's originally from Neopia Central, but a few years ago we moved to Alt—"

"Neopia Central? How lowbrow," the Lupe said. "That's disappointing."

Pharazon fidgeted, unsure how to reply to that. "W-well, I'm actually here to get into Brightvale University!" He grinned shyly. "All my life, I've loved learning, and now I think I'm finally ready to become one of your famous minds!"

"Not just anyone gets to study at Brightvale," the Lupe said, pushing her glasses up her snout. "But… I may be able to offer some assistance. If you do something for me in return."

"Anything!" Pharazon said. "Please! I'll do anything you want me to!"

The scholar grinned rather toothily, a gleam in her eyes. "I'm doing my doctoral dissertation on faerie Neopets, but I've been having the most difficult time finding a faerie Draik to study. They're dreadfully uncommon, after all."

"I'd be happy to help!" Pharazon said. He extended a paw. "I'm ArPharazonTheGolden, by the way. Pharazon for short. Who are you?"

The Lupe regarded his paw for a moment and then shook it briefly as though it had something sticky on it. "Lady Celice Anfel," she said. "Currently going for my doctorate in General Magical Studies."

"Celice Anfel?" Pharazon asked. "You had an essay published in _Modern Spells_ , didn't you! The one about the effects of Air Faerie magic on Shenkuu airship aerodynamics?"

"Yes, yes," Celice said, waving a paw as she beamed proudly. "And I do hope you've read _The Mote Encyclopedia_. I wrote the entries on Electrical Motes and Weewoo Motes, and the biography of Mada Llewor."

"Who?" Pharazon asked.

"An eccentric Haunted Woods scholar who dedicated his career to his crackpot postulations on the existence of Jelly Motes," Celice said. "Anyhow, here's the deal. You let me do research on your fae properties, and I'll introduce you to the Department of Magic. You're far more likely to be accepted with an endorsement from someone with my credentials, even if you are from…" She sniffed. "Neopia Central."

Pharazon twisted his tail nervously. "You'd—you'd really do that for me, Lady Anfel?" A grin spread across his face as he realised his dreams were coming true. "Oh, this is the greatest day of my life!" he said. His wings fluttered in excitement, throwing off cyan sparks of faerie dust. Several Neopets passing by stopped to stare at him, and his scales flushed in embarrassment. "S-sorry," Pharazon said. "They do that when I get worked up about something. It's a faerie thing."

Celice, meanwhile, took out a notepad and a pencil. "Beginning my observation of faerie Draik subject," she muttered to herself. "Subject has no decorum, the poor soul. This ought to be interesting."

"I think so, too!" Pharazon said.

The sorceress glanced up at him. After an awkward pause, she cleared her throat. "Yes—of course," she said, holding her notepad so Pharazon couldn't see it. "Well, let's be off to the University, shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Pardon me, is Master Seradar in?" Celice asked a passing Acara.

"I'm afraid not, Lady Anfel," the Acara said. He was not dressed in mages' robes, but rather in a smart tunic and trousers, his feathered cap at a jaunty angle. "He was called away on urgent business to Tyrannia by the Order of the Red Erisim."

"Shame," Celice said. "I've got everything I need to do my presentation. Would you inform the department chairs and tell them to meet me in the west demonstration hall?"

Pharazon only vaguely heard their conversation. He was too preoccupied looking around Brightvale Castle in amazement. The castle was warm and spacious, filled with light filtering in from immense stained-glass windows. Books lined the walls of every room and sometimes even spilled out onto the halls. Already they had passed through three libraries—it was enough to make the Draik swoon. Clearly King Hagan was a ruler worth his salt.

The Draik was jolted out of his reverie by furry knuckles rapping on his head. "Oh—sorry," he said.

"Are all faerie Neopets as absent-minded as you?" Celice asked. "Or is that a trait intrinsic to Draiks?"

"Uh—I don't know," Pharazon said. "But wow, you have so many books here! I want to read all of them!"

"Don't get your hopes up," Celice said. "Even I don't have the proper clearance to handle some of the more volatile magic volumes. At any rate, let's get you started on the admissions process, shall we? Fortunately for me, I'll be able to witness your aptitude firsthand." She readied her notebook.

Pharazon gulped. "Aptitude? I have to take an aptitude test?"

Celice patted him on the back, but wiped her paw on her robes afterward as though the Draik had just climbed out of the Meridell Rubbish Dump. "Nothing to worry about," she said. "You've just got to fill out some forms and then display your talent in magic."

"Magic?" Pharazon swallowed hard. "I-I don't know if I can study magic, milady. I mean, I'm painted faerie, but I've never really done magic before, and I was hoping to maybe go into history or science—"

"Pah!" the Lupe said. "My friend, those musty subjects are for those who lack true genius!" She spread out her paw in front of him, as if gesturing for him to behold the panorama of his potential. "We magicians dabble in the realm of _possibility_. And I think you'd go much farther in magic than any of those other subjects."

"Er, well…" Pharazon twisted his tail. "If you say so."

"Oh, I do," Celice said. "After all, you're faerie! Magic is in your blood! I mean that quite literally, by the way."

"I know," Pharazon said. He examined his paw. "I got a paper cut on my finger once. Weirdest thing ever. My owner said she'd never seen anything so sparkly."

"You don't say," Celice said, scribbling in her notebook. "And besides, I want to see your skill in magic, not hear you recite historical facts. You're supposed to be doing me a favour, remember?"

Pharazon nodded. "Of course."

As they continued down the hall, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He'd never considered studying magic before and he still really had his heart set on history or science. But he didn't want to let Celice down, not after she had been so accommodating to him. Still, an uncomfortable feeling grew in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

"When you said 'a copious amount of paperwork', you weren't kidding," Pharazon said to Celice as an enormous stack of parchment was deposited on the counter in front of him by a Jubjub receptionist.

Celice sat on the couch in the lobby, jotting things down in her notebook. "Would you rather wait a few weeks for Master Seradar to return from Tyrannia?" she asked. "Or would you like to seek him out and probably get stepped on by one of those boors from the Brute Squad in the process?"

The Draik sighed. "All right…" he said as he began trying to lift the column of paperwork. After several vain attempts to heft the whole thing, he settled for picking it up portions at a time and carrying it piecemeal to a chair by the couch.

"Keep them in order," the receptionist snapped, barely glancing up from the book she was reading. "If you wind up putting Form 230-A before the Arcana Non-Disclosure Agreement, it could result in the unleashing of eldritch horrors! Or worse—Fyora could take away our accreditation!"

"Uhh, r-right," Pharazon stammered as he picked up the first page to read it.

Celice reached over and took the paper out of his hand, hurriedly sorting through the first several pages until she handed him one with blank spots to fill out. "Oh, don't worry about the fine print!" she said. "It's all legal nonsense anyway, and I've scheduled your aptitude test in half an hour, so be quick about this!"

"Sorry," Pharazon said, ignoring most of the page except for what he needed to fill out.

For the next few minutes, the lobby was stiflingly silent save for the scratching of his quill and Celice's pencil, and the receptionist turning the pages of her book. Pharazon wondered what kind of hijinks Blynn and Hyren were getting into, and if Terra was feeling any better. He missed them already.

"'Have you ever been a) zapped by Boochi, b) handed a transmogrification potion by Dr. Sloth, or c) bought stocks from Skeith Feeding Ltd.?'" Pharazon read the question out loud and then looked up at Celice. "What does Skeith Feeding Ltd. have to do with magic?"

"You'd be surprised," Celice said. "Hurry! You've only got ten minutes to spare!"

A few pages later, Pharazon read, "Would you rather have lunch with the Brain Tree or the Esophagor?"

"I don't know, would you?" Celice asked. "Are you really only that far in?"

Pharazon flipped through the last few papers. "I'm sorry, some of these questions just seem rather… irrelevant. Like which member of Wock 'Til You Drop I most identify with."

"Just scribble something in," Celice said. "Trust me, they don't even look at half of those forms. They're just required by law. Simple rigmarole, that's all."

"'Simple rigmarole' sounds like an oxymoron…" Pharazon muttered. "I wasn't expecting just applying to go to school here to be so… annoying."

"Well, I'm sorry life isn't all sunshine and Cheery Blossoms for you," Celice said. "Now hurry it up! You've only got five minutes! Sign your name at the end and then you're done!"

Pharazon rushed through the rest of the forms, filling them out as quickly as he could and not even having time to properly read them. When he finally finished the last page, with just a minute to spare, he let out a huge sigh. Waving the paper so the ink would dry, he turned it over on top of the previous sheet. His wings had developed a cramp from sitting so long, and he winced as he gave the papers back to the receptionist.

"Took you long enough," the Jubjub said, not even looking up from her book.

"He is dreadfully slow, I'm afraid," Celice said, standing up. "Well, now that that's over with, it's time to test your aptitude." Swinging an arm around the Draik's shoulders, the Lupe steered him out of the lobby and down a new hallway.

"Are you sure I'll do all right with this?" Pharazon asked. "I've never even tried doing magic before."

"Oh, positive," Celice said. "The results ought to be very favourable." She grinned so widely that her fangs showed.

At the end of the hall were two great oaken doors engraved with images of sorcerers and their magical accomplishments, further intimidating the Draik as Celice turned the handle on one of the doors and led him inside. The interior was dim and windowless, and Pharazon could barely see his own two feet on the smooth wooden floor, but he heard whispers in the air around him and he gulped. What sort of magic was he expected to know, and who would be judging him?

They stopped, Celice snapped her fingers, and a bright light shone down on them from above. They stood in the middle of a circular room, and around them were rows of arena-like seating filled with Neopets wearing ornate robes—watching them.

Pharazon's tongue suddenly felt like a wad of cotton and he thought he was going to be ill. He never did well in the spotlight.

Celice spread out her arms. "Ladies and gentlemen!" she said. "Thank you all for coming to my demonstration on the unique properties of faerie Draiks! My findings in this area should be quite illuminating to scholars specializing both in painted pet studies and Faerie magic!"

Pharazon turned and looked up at her. "Wait—what?! I thought this was my admissions aptitude test!" he squeaked. He could practically feel the audience judging everything about him.

"Yes, well—" Celice cleared her throat again. "I may have… fudged the facts a bit. There is no aptitude test."


	3. Chapter 3

"You lied to me?!" Pharazon asked, his ears drooping.

"You promised to help me!" Celice said. "You can't back out of this now! I need to research a faerie Draik and I don't know when I'm going to come across another one!" She frowned. "Now's your chance to mingle with real scholars, Pharazon. You'd hate to disappoint all of these terribly intelligent Neopets, wouldn't you?"

Pharazon looked up at them, and they seemed to murmur in agreement. "Okay… fine," he sighed. "What can I do to help?"

"Just stand there," Celice said, "and don't do anything stupid. You'll make me look bad." She picked up one of his wings, splaying it out. "Observe," she said, "the unusual wing structure compared to baseline Draik physiology. Also observe the stark contrast between this and the wings of other Faerie-painted pets, especially similar species such as the Krawk and Scorchio. This leads me to believe that Water Faeries may have had a hand here, as the design is strikingly aquatic."

"But what about the application forms?" Pharazon asked. "Am I still going to get to go to school here—"

Celice dropped his wing. "And now my subject will perform a demonstration of the unique flight qualities of Faerie Draiks," she said. She glared down at him. "Won't he?"

"Oh—right," Pharazon said. He flapped his wings, sending aqua-colored sparkles flying as he began to rise off the floor. Snickers arose from the crowd and he cringed. "I don't make them do that!" he said, dropping back to the floor. "It just happens!"

"Why, a Draik that sparkles is hardly a Draik at all!" an elderly Draik in the front row chortled into his sleeve. "What a far cry from his majestic brethren!" It was obvious from his tone that he was mostly referring to himself.

Pharazon's shoulders slumped, and he looked up to Celice, trying to figure out how to get out of this. "I—I think I need to leave," he said.

"You can't leave," Celice said. "You filled out the Research Subject Waiver back in the lobby, not the application for admission."

The Draik's stomach dropped. "So that's why you didn't want me to read it too closely?!"

The sorceress scoffed. "Oh, please. A simpleton from Neopia Central could never get into Brightvale University, anyway. I just needed to gain your trust, was all. As per the stipulations of the form, you can't go until I'm done gathering the data I need for my dissertation—and that includes helping me with my presentation."

Before he could protest, Celice looked back to her superiors. "As you can plainly see, his Faerie coloring has infused him with some degree of magic, which I have reason to believe may have affected his internal fire-generating abilities as well," she said. "I will now have him attempt to blow fire." She folded her arms and looked down at the Draik.

He stared at her. "I can't," he whispered.

"What do you mean, you can't?" she asked, her ears perking as she frowned at him.

"I mean—well, I've tried before, but—" Pharazon grimaced. "It's not fire that comes out."

"Well then, let's see it already!" Celice said. "This is scholarly work, Pharazon! You are holding up the advance of knowledge! If you dare call yourself a friend of learning, you will show us what makes you tick!"

Pharazon gritted his teeth. Although he felt awful about all of this, he just couldn't let her or these other intellectuals down. And he had signed the waiver, so now he had to follow through, right? He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest, rearing his head back.

Trying to breathe fire wasn't something he did on a regular basis, and this was why. Feeling the familiar warmth in his belly, he dug his claws into the floor, steadied himself, and opened his jaw. What came out was not the usual stream of orange flame to be expected from most other Draiks, but a glittery wisp of aquamarine that dissipated into the air.

It was most embarrassing. A Draik's flame was supposed to be fierce and powerful, but Pharazon's magic-breath would never intimidate anybody. And coming from a male Draik, it looked downright ridiculous.

The room echoed with the uproarious laughter of the scholars. "I say!" the purple Draik said with a guffaw. "This fellow's as dainty as a baby Miamouse! Has no one ever taught him to blow a proper flame?"

"I don't believe he can," Celice said with a stifled chuckle. "It's most fascinating, but it appears that being painted faerie renders his fire-breathing abilities ineffective."

Pharazon looked up and around at these Neopets and realised they didn't care about him at all. And he could either stay here and take their ridicule, or put an end to it. That thought was terrifying, but then he remembered his family and how much they loved him. He deserved better than this.

"That does it!" he shouted. It wasn't enough to silence the laughter, but he didn't care. "I'm not your research subject, Celice!" he said to the Lupe. "I was hoping we could be friends! But now I see I'll never be a friend to you!"

Celice blinked. Slowly, the laughter in the room died down. "I—I never wanted your friendship!" the sorceress stammered. "You were a fool for going along with me, Pharazon! You only have yourself to blame!"

"That's not true!" Pharazon said. "I trusted you and you lied to me!" He glowered out at the other scholars and spewed out another puff of magic in rage. "Now I see the true nature of this university, and I don't want any part of it! You're just a bunch of self-absorbed, arrogant wretches!"

Celice's fur bristled and a growl rose in her throat. "How dare you insult us like this? How dare you ruin my doctoral presentation?!"

Pharazon stood up straight and lashed the floor with his long tail. "Because coming here was a mistake," he said, "and I'm going to fix it right now!" Not waiting for a reply, he turned and flew out of the room, faerie dust streaming behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Pharazon sat on a stone bridge on the outskirts of Brightvale, staring at the river below, his reflection punctuated by falling tears.

How could he have been so stupid? He, a simple Draik who had never been on any grand adventures or done anything of note in the world, a faerie pet who couldn't even use magic, would never have been accepted by such a prestigious institution. And the friend he thought he'd had there turned out to be horrible.

He frowned. If that was what made one a scholar, then he didn't want to be a scholar, after all. But his heart yearned for learning. He couldn't smother that important part of himself.

Pharazon picked up a thin yellow leaf that had fallen onto the bridge and dropped it into the river, watching it sail off beyond a bend, toward the horizon and eventually the sea. He envied it. Its existence was so simple compared to his. Everything was too confusing right now.

Someone behind him cleared her throat, making him jump. He turned to see Celice standing nearby. With a frown, Pharazon pushed off of the bridge and hovered in front of her, wings fluttering. "What do you want?" he hissed. "Haven't you already humiliated me enough?"

Her ears were low and her head bowed. "Pharazon… I'm sorry," she said. "What I did was wrong." She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve and pushed her spectacles up her nose, staring at the stonework of the bridge. "Please forgive me. I feel awful about this."

Pharazon wrinkled his snout. "You didn't seem so sorry back at the University," he said.

Celice rubbed her snout with her paw. "I know. I was an idiot for playing the University's game—all I really cared about was prestige. I never stopped to think how it might affect other Neopets." She sighed and sat down on the bridge, folding her hands in her lap. "For most Neopets at the University, it's not even really about the knowledge any more. It's just about being better than everyone else."

The Lupe stared out at the river for a moment before glancing back to Pharazon. "But… what you said to me back there, about being friends…" she said. "I realise that I've lost myself. And I don't like what I've become."

From the satchel at her hip, she pulled out her thesis parchment. "I need to start from square one," she said, ripping the parchment in half and dropping it into the river. The paper became waterlogged and wrinkled, the ink swirling into the current.

"Oh—!" Pharazon gasped. "But—all of your hard work!"

"I came by that research dishonestly," Celice said, shaking her head, "and by manipulating my fellow Neopets. That is not the way a true scholar should conduct herself. And Master Seradar is already going to be furious with all of us when he returns from Tyrannia." She grinned. "I think I need a break from Brightvale for a while. Perhaps I'll go research manifestations of magic across the various Neopian lands. And… I hope perhaps I can keep in touch with you, Pharazon. I promise I'll be a better friend from now on."

"I never said we were friends," Pharazon said. He couldn't believe she had the gall to want to be his friend after what she had done.

Celice drooped. "Oh… that's all right," she said quietly. "I understand. I have been pretty awful to you. I wouldn't want to be my friend, either."

A pang of guilt pricked Pharazon's heart at the look on her face. Despite how angry he was at her, he realised his anger was hurting her and not making things any better for her, either. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, landing back on the guardrail of the bridge. "Of course we can be friends. You can Neomail me anytime you want."

She looked up at him with a small smile. "Thank you," she said. "I ought to get going. I'm hoping to catch the next transport to Kreludor."

"Good luck," Pharazon said as she left. He watched her until she disappeared out of sight on the woodland path. His anger had been replaced by peace. He vaguely remembered his owner telling him something about anger and forgiveness. Maybe this was what she was talking about.

"Heyyyy Pharazon!" Blynn skipped toward the bridge, Hyren trudging behind her. They were both covered in the juice and pulp of various fruits, and Blynn wore part of an echtooh melon's violet rind on her head like a helmet. "We had an _awesome_ day at Brightvale Fruits!" she shouted.

"Well, that's one word for it," Hyren said flatly as he scooped some orange skeem pulp out of one antenna.

Pharazon smiled. "So much for damage control, huh?" he asked.

"So how was your day?" Hyren asked, evading the question. "Less sticky, I hope. Did you get into the University?"

Pharazon shook his head. "You know, I don't think it's the best fit for me," he said. "I've discovered I like my family a lot more. As crazy as you guys are."

"Good, 'cause I saved some Squibble Berry Jam for you!" Blynn shoved a jar of the indigo jam in Pharazon's face. "We got some for Terra, too! It's packed with vitamin C, so that cold'll be busted in no time! Let's head back to Meridell and tell her about our day!"

"Right," Pharazon said as he followed them off the bridge. He would have to be sure to tell their owner about everything he had learned today, too—and that he had made a new friend.


End file.
